


Nous sommes, nous sommes

by rillaelilz



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillaelilz/pseuds/rillaelilz
Summary: "I would choose you", he could say, and Kili would believe him, forgive every silence and half-truth. Kili would say, "I choose you, too. I chose you a long time ago".





	Nous sommes, nous sommes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/gifts).



> This is my raffle gift for [Lilly](https://linane-art.tumblr.com) <3 I’m so sorry for the horrible delay, darling! And not just that, either :P I’m afraid things went off track again. You gave me such a _gorgeous_ prompt, and I’m not sure I did it justice. I meant to bring to you some soft domestic fluff, and my brain spawned this instead. But I poured all my heart into it, and I hope this can make up for everything else. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you’ll enjoy your gift, 'cause you deserve something worthy of this name  <3 Thank you for being so patient with me, and for being your wonderful self, always <3
> 
> A big thank you to [Erica](https://damnitfili.tumblr.com), my one true birb, for being my moral support and the target of my whinings through all this :3 You’re awesome, bro!
> 
> Now, this fic belongs to the Hogwarts AU which Erica and I share; you can find her amazing stories for this 'verse [here](http://damnitfili.tumblr.com/tagged/fiki-hp-au) and my first fic [here](http://rillils.tumblr.com/post/126693188322/countdown). All you need to know is there's only a 1 year difference between Fili and Kili in this AU.
> 
> Have a nice day, everyone! :3

 

 

 

_What day are we?_  
_We are every day, my friend_  
_We are our whole life, my love_

(Jacques Prévert, Chanson)

 

 

 

. July 1997

Fili’s magic’s always had a bit of a tingle to it; the kind of thrill you get the first time you hop on a broomstick and feel it buzz to life in your hands, all adrenaline and nerve-endings – although Kili wouldn’t know about that, not just yet.

Nobody else’s has ever felt like this. He pictures their flavour, sometimes; thinks Ma’s magic would be more on the soft, fresh side, like a snowflake touching the tip of your nose; and in his dreams, Pa’s magic is all sun-brown and cozy, and tastes like warm, gooey cookies in Kili’s mouth.

Fili’s though, it’s like a sparkle. The fading burst of fireworks, when the noise’s already gone but the colours are still there, falling, trickling, red-gold and jelly-like against the nightsky.

“Does it hurt?”

Fili’s fingertips brush the unbroken skin beneath Kili’s knee, where blood is mingling with a smear of dirt, and magic spills from him inadvertently, like a leaking tap left alone at night, droplet after droplet filling up the sink. And just as slowly, Kili’s skin stitches itself back together, the seams pulled gently until nothing but a reddened patch is left behind.

Kili squirms, his leg tickling.

The truth is, he’s not sure magic is supposed to feel like anything. Maybe it only happens because it’s accidental. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t come from a wand, from a place of reason and skill; only from Fili’s sheer will.

“It's– it only hurts a little, now,” Kili sniffles, swinging his good leg back and forth over the edge of the garden bench. Fili nods. There’s a smudge of soil on his shirt, Kili notices guiltily, right where his hands clutched at Fili, and it darts straight through the googly-eyed owl printed on the front.

“It’s okay,” Fili soothes, though he looks a little pale himself, “Ma will fix it for you and you’ll have forgotten all about it by dinnertime.”

“Yeah?” Kili looks down at him from his perch, all big, hopeful eyes and snotty button nose. “You mean that?”

“‘course I do,” Fili chirps without missing a beat, “do I ever lie to you?”

Kili falters.  _When you’re sad but you tell me you’re not_ , he wants to say,  _and you think I won’t notice. When uncle upsets you but you tell me you’re okay. When you say that you don’t remember Pa either, but I know you do_.

But that’s different, Kili knows. That’s never really  _Kili_  he’s lying to.

“No,” the younger says, rubbing at his damp eyes with a last sniffle, “you never do, Fee.”

Fili smiles up at him, radiant, his grin nice and whole where he was sporting a tooth-gap only a month ago.

“That’s right.”

 

 

*

 

 

. December 2000

Their bedroom’s ceiling glows with a multitude of stars in the dark. As soon as the lights go out, they’ll be floating about in their pretty swirls of pink and purple and orange, like glitter in a bubble bath, ever-changing. 

Pa cast the spell when Kili was only a babe, and he would freshen it for them every year – until Ma had to take over and do it in his place. The colours were dimmed at first, and the twinkle not quite right, but still she tried; and she’s never once forgotten since.

When Kili blinks his eyes open, the stars are the only light in the room, winking fuzzily down at him over the shadow of Fili’s shoulder.

“Kee. Move over.”

He scoots to the right without question, wiggling sleepily under the blankets while Fili climbs in, with his array of cold toes and poking knees invading Kili’s space.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Kili asks, gently tugging on Fili’s sleeve until his brother is squirming closer, slotting his chin in the crook between Kili’s neck and his thin shoulder.

“Yeah,” Fili mutters after a moment’s thought, and slings an arm over Kili’s waist. 

Kili nods knowingly, his eyes already closed as their limbs rearrange themselves in a familiar tangle. Fili has hardly slept in his own bed at all, since coming home for his first winter break; not that Kili minds. They have a history of sneaking back and forth between each other’s cots anyway, and what uncle Thorin doesn’t know, he can’t scold them for.

Kili finds Fili’s hand with his own beneath the duvet, mumbling to himself in displeasure when his fingertips brush against the old scar there – the Pygmy Puff bite Fili took for him years ago, four fading dots imprinted painfully into the soft flesh between Fili’s thumb and forefinger.

“It’s all right,” Kili tells him, stroking the back of his brother’s hand soothingly. “You can sleep now. I will protect you.”

A little puff of air comes from Fili’s side, warm and tickly against Kili’s ear.

“Thanks, Kee.”

 

 

*

 

 

. March 2007

The evenings are still cold out here. The breeze sweeps over the tower like a flattering lover, and Kili burrows his chin into his jumper, arms crossed snugly over his chest to keep some of the chill out.

“Look, I know how you dig your romantic hero aesthetic, but this is going a bit too far just to see Madam Pomfrey again.”

Kili snorts, half a smile tugging at his lips. Fili can nag all he wants, but when he steps outside,  _he’s_  not wearing any cloak either.

“Think I’m trying too hard?” Kili smirks, struggling to hold in a shiver, but there’s no point in hiding it from his brother. Fili doesn’t waste time looking for clues; he just reaches for his wand, taps it to Kili’s shoulder and murmurs a spell for him, easy as breathing.

Warmth washes over Kili at once. The hair on his arms raises in a trail of goosebumps as Fili’s magic takes the cold away, leaving a cosy feeling in its place, and a familiar tingle down over Kili’s spine. He swallows; his mouth tastes like the mint chocolates they used to steal from Grandma Durin when they were kids somehow, a memory he thought long forgotten.

“Thanks, Fee,” Kili says, rubbing his arms to let the new warmth settle in.

“Don’t thank me, I’m thinking about myself here,” Fili shoots back with a grin. “Ma would kill me if I let you be stupid and catch a cold.”

He tucks his wand away; the smooth handle sticks from his pocket like an invitation, and Kili knows that he could simply grab it, borrow it for the night, and Fili wouldn’t bat an eye. They’ve done it before, sometimes unwittingly, sometimes on purpose. They’ve done it often enough that there might just be the imprint of his fingers around the mahogany of Fili’s wand, the handle naturally worn to accommodate both their grips. He just wonders if a spell cast with this would give Fili a taste of his own magic; if it would hum underneath his skin and into his bones the way it does Kili. He’s just never asked.

“So.” He clears his throat. “You’ve made up your mind, then? About what you’ll do when you finish school.”

That gets Fili’s attention. His head snaps up, and then he’s licking his lips, hesitant.

“Well.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. Fili never does that. “We’ll see how my N.E.W.T.s go and–”

“Fee, come on,” Kili cuts him off impatiently, “your grades are spotless. You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Kili…” His brother sighs heavily. With his hunched shoulders and furrowed brow, he’s the picture of weariness itself, and Kili feels guilt prickle in his guts at the sight. “We are  _not_  doing this again.”

“I’m just trying to…” Kili exhales. “I’m trying to understand. Is this what you really want? Be an Auror? Carry on the family tradition? I know you’d do that – God,  _I know you_ , of course you’d do that,” he rumbles, and catches the glare Fili throws his way. “But is this what you  _truly_  want?”

Fili’s facing away now, his gaze fixed on the school grounds unravelling beneath them – the soft shimmer of the lake, the edge of the forest, the tall shadows of the pitch – his eyes focused, yet unseeing. His jaw is set in a straight line, so tight it looks painful. Kili can do nothing but nod, his hands balled up into fists at his sides.

“Of course not,” he says, bitterness cutting through his words. “But you’re going to do it anyway. Because  _Thorin_  said so.” He scoffs, and Fili’s eyes are on him again, the placid blue of them twisted into anger. “I can’t believe you’re letting him do this to you.”

“ _Kili_ ,” his brother says warningly, but Kili doesn’t listen.

“I know you could be a great player, Fee, if you only let yourself have this–”

“Kili!”

Fili’s voice is like a shock of cold, calling for gooseflesh and causing Kili’s heart to hammer furiously in his chest. His hair captures the glow of the setting sun, gold infused with fire, and Kili finds himself gaping, powerless and out of breath. Suddenly, the cloud of warmth surrounding him feels suffocating.

“Why can’t you be honest, for once?” He asks, softly this time. “With yourself, if not with me.”

Fili stares at him for a long moment; emotions flicker in his eyes, and Kili aches to reach for him, to hold him, wrap the whole of his body around him and keep him safe. From himself. From uncle Thorin’s expectations. From Fili’s own cursed sense of duty. From anything, anyone who might threaten his happiness.

“I’m not doing this for Thorin, Kee,” Fili says eventually, letting out a sigh. “I wish you’d believe me.”

He takes a step back, and he feels so much more distant than just two feet away.

“Fili…”

“It’s all right, Kee,” he soothes, already turning away. “I’ll be fine.”

Kili has long since learned that there is a difference between a lie and denial. One is a choice; the other is survival. He’s just not sure which one Fili’s picking tonight.

But it stings, deep within his chest, in the pit of his stomach – all those times Fili told him to believe in himself, to keep fighting, to  _never ever_  give up on something he wants with everything he’s got, and now his brother is surrendering. And Kili is so mad, he could snap the very walls of Hogwarts with his bare hands.

“If you could choose for yourself,” he calls out, grasping Fili’s arm blindly, angrily, “if it could be anything, what would you choose?”

And there’s the trick to break a fair mind, Kili finds out. Ask them to be selfish. Ask them to want, to demand, to pursue, and they’ll be lost.

Fili’s lips part, but no sound comes out. He lets Kili hold him in place, shaky fingers dipped fast in the creases of his sleeve, cold and thin and coiled tight, so tight that he can feel them bruise.

There are things Fili doesn’t say. But if you look, you’ll see them written in his eyes, and if you listen, you’ll hear them whispered in a breath, in the sweetness of a touch.

And when Fili looks at him, it’s all so plain to see, barely hidden in the intensity of his gaze.

_I would choose you_ , Kili thinks he can read there.

_I would choose you_ , Fili could say now, as he treads into this scrap of terra incognita standing between their bodies, with his weighed down shoulders, with his held breath.

_I would choose you_ , he could say, now that his hand finds the curve of Kili’s cheek, now that it seeks the nape of Kili’s neck to curl and nest there, warm like home. Now that he tilts Kili’s head back and leans into him, helplessly, as if all of this belonged to the realm of the inevitable and being apart from his brother was never an option at all.

_I would choose you_ , he could say, and Kili would believe him, forgive every silence and half-truth. Kili would say,  _I choose you, too. I chose you a long time ago_.

But neither of them speaks, and Kili’s breath falls short, here in this unknown twist on their path.

Fili’s so close, and the air between them so charged – and it’s like being a child again, unwrapping a chocolate frog and sitting back to see how far it will jump, how long it will live once it’s taken its gamble, heart thrumming in your chest.

His brother swallows and Kili can hear it, see all the little motions as Fili gulps down more words – the clenching of his jaw, the bobbing of his throat, the pink of his lips as he licks them damp.

Kili could picture them all with his eyes closed, and draw them in perfect detail in his mind, each one of them painfully true.

If he could unsee them,  _unknow_  them, find them in somebody else for a change– But his heart would say no.  _No, you’re not him_.

Fili presses his lips to Kili’s forehead, his eyes screwed shut, and Kili shivers all over, fingers clenching around Fili’s arm desperately, bracing for something that doesn’t come.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Fili mumbles in his hair.

He lets himself linger there, in this warp in time and space where everything is allowed and they can still touch, and Kili can wonder if his hair is tickling Fili’s mouth; if Fili can smell him the way Kili can, too good, too familiar, too precious to let go.

“I’ll be fine,” Fili promises, stepping back with a last glance at his brother. He smiles, shadows of the unspoken gathering in his eyes, and for the first time in his life, Kili thinks,  _Liar_.

“I mean it, Kee. I’ll be all right.”

And then he walks away, his spell still clinging to Kili’s skin like the impression of a kiss.

 

 

*

 

 

. January 2008

The Hogwarts Express gleams red like a polished cherry in the chill of winter, and steam rises in puffy clouds to meet a crystal-clear sky.

“Sure you didn’t forget anything? Wouldn’t be a first for you.”

Fili is this happy splash of colour in the crowd of dark cloaks swarming the platform, all misty breath and wind-mussed hair, locks of gold falling in his eyes when the breeze blows just right. Kili rolls his eyes at him with the perfected skill of life-long practice.

“Yes,  _mum_ ,” he drawls out, ducking to the side to avoid the cuffing hand coming right at his head.

Fili laughs, and his dimples show even more in the hint of stubble he’s sporting these days. Kili has spent the whole of their Christmas holidays trying to ignore it, trying not to see how much it suits him – how it changes him into a man Kili doesn’t know yet. A man he has only met in bits and glimpses so far. The advanced spells Fili has discussed with Thorin over dinner. The new names that graced his lips every so often, friends Kili might never meet, never share with him. The broad set of his shoulders, somewhat wider than Kili remembered them. The questions Fili only half-answered in between quiet kisses, huddled close in Kili’s bed, their ankles crossed and their thighs brushing together.

But beyond the layers of novelty – underneath the stubble, the secrets, the new haircut – Fili’s smile is still the same, untouched, blissfully  _old_.

“You’re going back tomorrow?” Kili asks, fingers worrying the sleeves of his crested cloak.

“Yeah,” Fili nods absent-mindedly. He reaches up to tuck Kili’s scarf more snugly around him, stripes of red and yellow overflowing in his gloved hands. “You’ll be playing against Hufflepuff next, right?”

Kili’s gaze darts to his brother’s face then.

“Yeah? Why?”

Fili looks him in the eye, broad hands cradling the span of Kili’s shoulders.

“Well, you know I’m rooting for you, always am,” Fili grins, “but don’t humiliate them too badly, all right? They’re still my House, after all.”

That earns him a playful shove in the chest, but Kili’s laughing, his stomach buzzing with the soft flutter of butterflies underneath it all.

“You’re such a jerk,” he mutters, unable to tear his gaze away from Fili’s own.

It’s easy to fall back into this; to sway together in this odd little bubble of theirs, far from any worries, far from duties and bores. Just until the train whistles; and then the moment breaks.

“I have to go,” Kili groans. He glances at their mother and uncle Thorin, both standing to the side. Dis gifts him with a precious smile, her eyes all crisp blue and perfect crinkles, and Thorin graces him with a nod of his head; they have already said their goodbyes.

The only one left is Fili. And the moment he lays his eyes on him, Kili knows he won’t have to ask.

Fili pulls him into a hug, and Kili’s arms furl around his brother as naturally, as instinctively as his lungs draw in a breath. He tucks his nose against Fili’s neck, where his coat is unbuttoned and the collar of his sweater tickles Kili’s lips.

He smells so much like home, right here in this little crevice, in this intimate spot where his skin is warm and his hair wispy-soft and the sweet aroma of cookies lingers on him, and Kili’s heart aches with a longing so strong, so powerful, his knees almost buckle under the sheer weight of it.

“Love you, Kee,” his brother murmurs, somewhere next to Kili’s ear. Were bodies made to contain this much, Kili wonders. Were ribs made to crack and split around swelling hearts, and let love bleed through a man’s skin, or is it only him – breaking helplessly at Fili’s touch, watching the seams come undone under the gentle press of a single one of Fili’s fingertips?

“I love you, too,” Kili whispers back, and it’s like magic, a careful, impossible balance between truth and a lie – a spell crafted to hide a secret in plain sight. To preserve, without denying.  
And if anyone hears, it won’t matter.

They part slowly, resenting trains and schools and schedules, and Kili lets his hand curl at the nape of Fili’s neck one last time. His thoughts fly to the gloves he hid away, shoved in the bottom of his trunk, just so he could feel the silky slip of Fili’s hair between his fingers, and the rasp of golden stubble prickling his skin. He doesn’t regret it one bit.

He climbs the steps almost blindly, leaning out like they do in uncle Frerin’s Muggle movies.

“Don’t write to me every day, I’ll be too busy being cooler than you!” Fili calls out, his smile wide, his skin all but glowing in the pale sunlight.

Kili takes him in, all of him, ravenous – the curve of Fili’s lips, the tip of his nose pink from the cold, the way he holds himself, like a mischievous child in a grown man’s skin, and knows that he’ll never get enough of this.

“ _Every day_? You’ll be lucky if I write to you at all!” Kili bellows over the wooshing and whirring of the Express, and there’s a brightness in Fili’s eyes – the kind that speaks without a single word. The kind that would move even mountains to tears, knowing that they were so loved.

The kind that makes Kili feel hungry and full at the same time, his heart sated and yet begging for more.

As the train leaves King’s Cross behind, Kili knows that the next months will be the longest of his life.

 

 

*

 

 

. June 2009

The world awakens with quiet sounds around them. The soft click of a locked door. The thrilling whisper of discarded clothes, running like shivers underneath Kili’s skin. The subtle hum of a dipping bed, twin indents under their knees.

Even the colours are muffled in the dim light; blue turns to dark grey, brown to soft black, gold to a muted silver.

Fili’s hand is trembling when it finds the flat of Kili’s stomach. Kili covers it with his own, feels the tendons there flit uncertainly beneath his palm.

“You nervous?”

Fili licks his lips. His gaze flickers downwards to glance at the soft expanse of Kili’s naked body, a mirror to his own – and when he looks back up, there’s more than just their skin laid bare between them.

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. I’m just– I’m scared that you… that I won’t make it good for you.”

His thumb smoothes gentle circles against the tender flesh of Kili’s belly, and the motion ripples all through Kili, like warmth spilling from within; spreading, spreading.

“And you?” Fili murmurs. Their eyes don’t quite meet. “Are you scared?”

Kili shivers. There’s the cool touch of Fili’s watch against him, the buckle a faint shock of cold where it’s pressed between them. It’s the one thing Fili left on, he realises, and with a stutter of his heartbeat, Kili moves to gather his brother’s wrist in his hands.

He can feel Fili’s eyes on him as he works the strap open, can feel desire ignite his blood as he slips the watch off.  _Look at me_ , he thinks.  _Look at me. Feel me_. His lips kiss the inside of Fili’s wrist, the soft creases of his palm, the slanted shadows between Fili’s curled fingers, and Kili listens as his breath loses its rhythm.

“Kili…”

“I’m not scared,” he says, clasping Fili’s hand to the side of his own neck. “I’m not scared, Fee,” he says, because if Fili can be honest with him, then so can Kili. “Can never be scared when I’m with you.”

The look in Fili’s eyes has Kili’s heart in a painful grip, it’s so raw. It’s grateful, reverent, a shard cut out of the immense. And it’s so open, so unguarded, Kili can see himself in there, years of artful lies and fears dissolving in the play of light and shadow dancing across his brother’s face.

When Fili cradles him in his hands, Kili meets him halfway, leaning into him with the indulgent smile of long-known lovers.

There’s something breathtaking about the way Fili kisses him, all soft lips and cupped palms, the weight of a thousand words hidden in the slick caress of his tongue. Kili doesn’t miss words between them. The sounds of things left unsaid echoes in the sighs drawn from Fili’s mouth; the all-encompassing joy of  _I love you_ ’s lives and thrives in the wet warmth of their kisses, in the tight weave of golden air between Kili’s fingers, in the sharp curve of his arm hooked behind Fili’s neck.

Fili holds him close, his fingers splayed over the small of Kili’s back, and their bodies are soft wax to each other’s mold; blunt edges melting into one another to meet on even ground. They are arms to embrace and lips to welcome; sweet breaths to curl around the shape of a name.

If Kili can save any of this from the rust of time, he wants it to be the touch. The intimate call of skin to skin, his heart rubbed raw against Fili’s, beat to beat, chest to chest. The sweet burn of Fili’s bread in the crook of his neck – a gentle sting, pink like fingertips and warm like summer. The deep, drawn-out drag of Fili inside of him, slow and thick like honey is – Kili never wants it to fade, never wants to forget how his body knew before he ever did–

And if he can save any of this and seal it deep within his heart, he wants it to be the sounds – the breathless pitch of his name on Fili’s lips, the unravelling of a gasp, the first vestige of surrender concealed within a sigh.

He wants it to be the patterns of Vee’s and crooked stars crisscrossing his back from the sheets; he wants it to be the stretch of his legs around Fili’s hips, and the scent of him filling up his lungs, clinging to his very skin.

There’s the gentle glow of constellations above them, the fair outline of Gemini dancing quietly in the distance. If he could remember this, too, a hundred years from now, just to have one more detail to hold onto forever–

“Fee–”

But Fili thrusts into him, long and deep like the purest form of torture, and in the blinding flood of pleasure the stars are no longer stars, and Castor is only a frayed halo crowning Fili’s head. Kili turns his face into the pillow, lips parted around a gasp, and the sheets twist like rumpled flowers in his fists.

Fili stills almost at once. His hand strokes the inside of Kili’s bare arm, soothing, gentle to the point of shyness.

“Kili– did I–”

Kili’s eyes flutter open then, to take in the worried crease on Fili’s brow, the glistening of sweat collected at his temples. His fingers lock with Fili’s over the bedspread, snug enough to feel the bumps of knuckles as they slot into place together.

“Don’t stop.”

It tingles; the knot of bone and sinew where Fili’s skin touches his, magic spilling from him as if it couldn’t help but reach for Kili, sending pinpricks of pleasure down his spine. It tastes like home on Kili’s tongue; like the distant memory of peppermint and chocolate milk and the kisses of his brother’s mouth.

“Don’t stop, Fee.”

When their gazes meet, Kili finds himself trembling, his heart drumming loud and fast in his ears. There should only be this much awe in the eyes of lovers, Kili is sure. Anyone else might lose themselves in the sheer depths of it.

“Kili…”

Fili’s lips part around a hitched breath, his eyes glazed over with desire. His thumb dips into the groove between Kili’s thigh and hipbone, and he lets himself sink inside again, fast and deep, startling a sigh from Kili’s throat.

“Fili–  _Again_ , Fee, do it again–”

He thrusts in and out again, hot, languorous, easy like a knife cutting into tender flesh. Deeper, deeper, inch by tortuous, slippery inch, until pleasure uncoils in Kili’s belly and his legs quiver around his Fili’s waist.

“Fili…”

Fili buries his face against his brother’s neck, mouth pressing kisses to the soft skin there, and Kili arches into him, leans into him body and soul, fingers weaving in Fili’s hair to grasp at him helplessly, to urge him closer to hold him there forever.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop…”

No, he’s never missed the weight of words between them.

 

 

*

 

 

. September 2012

The red splotch of a burn fades all but instantly at the tap of Kili’s wand. Kili watches it heal back into soft creamy skin, cradling Fili’s hand gently in his own.

“There,” he announces, looking over his work with a craftsman’s pride, “as good as new.”

“My hero.” Fili wiggles his fingers experimentally, tendons flitting beneath the newly-healed skin. He casts Kili a dubious glance, all narrowed eyes and furrowing brow.

“Shouldn’t you be kissing it better?”

Kili stares back, lips pursed in a pensive fashion.

“Hm. I don’t know, should I?”

“Heroes always kiss it better,” Fili counters, and Kili has to admit, there’s no escaping that logic. Nor his brother’s eyebrow, pitched at a sassy angle, nor the suggestive fluttering of golden eyelashes.

“Very well,” Kili concedes magnanimously, bowing to touch his lips to Fili’s hand like the noble knight he obviously is – as if he  _didn’t_  spend his days seizing every chance to put his mouth on any available part of Fili’s body. “But  _you’re_ cleaning that up.”

Fili follows his gaze.

There’s egg yolk dripping off the stove, half-curdled from the heat, and the rest of their breakfast is smeared across the floor in a very artistic splash, dented pan included. Fili takes care of it with a flick of his free hand, slipping his wand back in his pocket in a single fluid motion.

“You know, that pan could use a  _Reparo._  Just saying,” Kili considers, and his brother turns to look at him with a lopsided grin.

“My stoic, relentless hero,” he mock-swoons, bringing both hands to his chest, “I would be lost without you.”

Breakfast may have been Vanished, but the smell of fried eggs and crispy bacon still lingers, warm and mouth-watering. Kili sniffs at it wistfully.

“Flatterer,” he laments, close to mournful, “but we both know that you care about Ernest more than you care about me.”

Ernest, a potted plant with knobbly little branches and clawed orange leaves, twitches guiltily from the windowsill. Sometimes Kili regrets buying it off a half-giant in a godforsaken corner of Mirkwood to bring back as a souvenir, thin and creepy as it is, but Fili dotes on the thing as if it were his own child, for some obscure reason.

“Well, I cannot deny it.” Fili shoots him an amused look, and Kili lets his tone slip into something positively dejected.

“Oh, thou art nothing but a deceiver,” he whines, a hand clasped over his heart, “a liar!”

Fili’s laughing now, grasping at Kili’s hips to pull him closer. Kili lets himself be maneuvered into Fili’s space, and struggles not to smile as Fili leans in, their noses almost touching.

“When do I  _ever_  lie to you?” Fili protests, laughter still twinkling in his bright eyes. Kili can’t help but break into a smirk.

The truth is, Fili doesn’t.

When the day’s been hard and they’ll sit with a glorious pile of junk food, tossing chocolate and caramel popcorn between them. When Thorin pulls another one of his tricks and they curl up into each other at night, cold feet rubbing together, to complain and bitch about him and then laugh behind his back. When Kili’s job keeps them apart and Two-way Mirrors will have to suffice, and whispered  _I miss you_ ’s will surface between them. Fili doesn’t lie. Not to him. Not anymore.

So, of course Kili grins and says,

“ _All the time_.”

Fili makes an outraged sound in the back of his throat, and attacks in retaliation. He slips his fingers beneath Kili’s sleeping shirt to reach his most ticklish spots and assault them, until Kili’s squirming like a fish in his hands and his laughter turns into breathless, wheezing little noises.

“Some brother you are!” Kili accuses him with an undignified squeal.

Fili seems to take pity on him then, stopping so he can wrap his arms around Kili’s waist instead.

“But you love me,” Fili croons. Kili scoffs.

“No, I don’t.”

Fili grins; burrows his face against Kili’s neck for good measure.

“Yes, you do,” he hums, lips grazing his brother’s skin where it’s most sensitive. He feels Kili lean into his touch, his body responding to Fili’s call despite his best intentions.

“Maybe,” Kili mumbles. Fili kisses the spot behind his ear, and there Kili goes again, head tilting to the side instinctively to welcome it.

“You do,” Fili says, delight spreading in his chest, light and sugar-sweet.

He strokes his hands along Kili’s flanks, and when Kili melts against him, he knows he has won.

“It is a… possibility,” Kili admits, nuzzling Fili’s cheek softly. Fili doesn’t bother pretending that he can resist that; he turns just so, the pad of his thumb tracing the outline of Kili’s lower lip, and they kiss, twin smiles joined as one.

There are no words after that. They need none.

 

 

 


End file.
